


Come Back . . . Be Here

by StarksInTheNorth



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Sansa-POV, got season 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:46:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21683959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarksInTheNorth/pseuds/StarksInTheNorth
Summary: Sansa waits for Jon's return. She only wants him back.She only wantshim.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 3
Kudos: 46





	Come Back . . . Be Here

The first night without Jon in the castle was strange to say the least. But it is the second night that he was gone that she awakes with a jolt, covered in sweat yet shivering. Sansa curls her legs up to her chest, thinking back on their goodbyes just days before.

“How strange that I don’t know you at all.” Jon said, simple words for a complicate farewell. They have taken back their home together, fixed the North and flown their banners, but he was right: they really do not know each other. As children, they were not close besides their proximity and blood; their present closeness is one forged only in the fires of war. Yet she wants him here again all the same because that new closeness is what she clung to through the journey back towards the husband who abused her so much that she will always carry those scars. It's what she clings to now in the night when she wakes without realizing where she is, cowering from the nightmares that plague her of all the things she's faced before and all the darkness she has yet to face.

Jon kissed her gently on the forehead, a light, simple thing that said nothing but said everything, too. His thumb stroked across her cheek, something that surely meant nothing to him but everything to her. “Be strong, Sansa. I have every faith in you.”

“Goodbye, Jon.” She whispered, so many words unspoken. He went to the courtyard, mounted his dark steed and turned back for one final wave. The south gate rose; the party ready to leave. Then, the horses galloped away, heading out of Winterfell and beyond, towards the Dragon Queen and all the help she offers.

The goodbye felt so long, but it was only a moment. Why did it feel like it had never ended?

Sansa rises from her bed and pulls a robe around her shivering form. But it does not provide any warmth against that which truly keeps her cold. She misses Jon but she cannot give in to the total helplessness that threatens to consume her. She makes her way to the kitchens, quietly and alone, and makes a cup of tea for herself. She could ring for a servant but despite the loneliness that holds her in its bosom, she finds peace in this dark moment of solitude.

Stoking the hearth coals, she sets a kettle of water over the glowing embers and waits for it to steam. She pours the water over a sachet of camomile and mint, seeps the tea and smells the steam that rises off. Here, there is some warmth but little comfort. The tea does not help her come any closer to sleep, but she heads for her rooms all the same. For there is work to be done in the morning and she does not have time to linger on her petty, pretty thoughts. Not when the rest of the castle, the rest of the North, is more important than her own well-being.

Sansa throws herself into her duties running their preparations for the rest of winter and managing the daily goings on of the castle, but the work never really dulled the numb throbbing in her chest where her heart should be. There are lords to appease, shelters to construct, crofters to train as warriors, orphaned children to assign tasks or find caregivers for, wains of grain to be stored and put away, battlements to correct and build up, armor to forge, weapons of fire to prepare - so many tasks that she thought to counsel Jon on, but instead he is gone and she is the one seeking counsel from others.

At the end of every day, she pulls herself into her bed, beneath the piles of furs and blankets, and hopes that tomorrow brings the raven proclaiming Jon's return.

But with every day that the raven doesn’t land in the rookery with news, the further away the chance of any raven seems to go.

She never should have gotten attached to his presence, to his comfort and support. She told herself not to, for men had only ever let her down. Joffrey, Tyrion, Loras Tyrell, Harry Hardyng, even Robb, who wouldn’t trade for her life and freedom, and her father, who didn’t think to tell her the truth. She plays back the memories to remind herself of this, of Jon not heeding her advice, making decisions without consulting her. Yet this does nothing, it only reminds her what it was to rule with someone who offered some help at all.

Weeks later, the raven finally comes; Jon is finally at Dragonstone.

Reading his missive over and over, Sansa finally realizes how much she needs him back. She writes him, a thousand times over and over, but each letter is crumpled and tossed aside. Each letter, bearing the same words: Come back. Be Here.

In the end, Sansa never sends anything.

She hates missing him, needing him, wanting him. But there is that constant drum in her heart, beating only for Jon’s safe return.

The return of her family should have dulled it, but it only intensifies that longing. Arya and Bran are so different than they were. Surely, Jon would know what to do. She knows so much about how she feels towards him, and yet she doesn’t know anything at all.

Riders come to Winterfell, soldiers gathering from every corner of the North. Yet none of them bring Jon back to her and so Sansa cannot help but be discontented with the arrivals. Even when they bring Jon’s friend back to the North, ready to bring the Maesters’ knowledge to their campaign against the White Walkers, there is no excitement, no spark of joy in Sansa’s eyes or heart.

It is only when Bran and Samwell tell her the truth, that Jon is not her brother, that Sansa finally allows herself to admit what the pain has been about all this time. She steps back, makes an excuse to her family, and leaves the room. Sansa is sure that they expect her to sit and discuss what this means, all possible repercussions, but she needs to take a moment to be Sansa, not Lady Stark.

She steps into her room and locks the heavy door, her lungs heaving, clamoring for more air than she can bring in with one breath.

Sansa has been falling in love with Jon, in the cruelest possible way, because he is worlds away and there is no sign that he will return to Winterfell, to her. The pieces fall into place, now, every yearning that she has kept so much to herself with him gone. She crumples like paper against the door, collapsing like a felled giant. An ugly sob escapes her lips and tears pour from her eyes. Sansa shakes, clutching her knees to her chest. This is her life now, this constant burning want for something whole, something real. Something she is sure she can never have.

Because Jon is not here, not where she needs him. He is far, far away, not anywhere tangible to Sansa. She doesn’t want to miss him like this, she wants him whole and here and hers, but that’s not how it is. Sansa wants to send the letter, desperately, but she’s not sure if he will ever listen. Still, her heart beats for him and so she does:

_Come back. Be Here. We need you, Jon._

‘I need you,’ she means, but ‘I need you’ is something she can never say.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think and come fangirl about GOT, ASOIAF, and Jonsa with me on [tumblr](http://www.starksinthenorth.tumblr.com/).


End file.
